Purpose
by Sandstorm Inkwell
Summary: In the hellish Capital Wasteland is it possible for someone to have a purpose besides basic survival? Will that purpose falter or will the circumstances of the waste keep that purpose fresh and strong in a person's mind?


_I hate guard duty._

That thought bounced around the head of the mid-aged slaver that currently stood at the end of the chokepoint that led to Paradise Falls. Bringing a cigarette to his lips, the man frowned as he heard the cheering and partying coming from the other side of the 'settlement' walls.

Even though it was about midday, the slavers inside Paradise Falls were partying. They always were. This was their bastion, after all. Not even the walking tin cans screwed with their home. They were feared by all, loved by none and that's how they liked it. The feeling one got when they saw the pure_ fear_ in another person's eyes as the collar clamped around their necks.

A shiver went down the guard's spine as he remembered the feeling of power. _Stupid guard duty or not, this is the good life._ He thought as he took another puff of his cigarette, his rifle cradled in his other arm. When he lowered the cigarette, he saw something moving to him. It didn't walk calmly like a slaver, nor did it move from cover to cover like an attacker.

It was just... charging. Blinking, the guard realized that there were actually _three _such shapes charging his post.

"Hey Zach, you see what I see?" asked the guard's partner, who already had his rifle up and ready. The guard, Zach, was about to reply when a roar shook the man's chest. It sounded as if it could challenge a Deathclaw or cause a Yao Guai to give pause.

Frozen in shock, Zach watched the three things get closer. Finally he could see what they were. Three beings in power armor were sprinting across the wastes at full speed. The ragged pelts of Yao Guai hung from their plates, streaming behind them as they ran.

Blood decorated parts of the armor, it's dark red color standing out against the armor's gunmetal grey. The lead attacker wore a Yao Guai head over it's helm, the jaw open to allow the wearer to look out at the world. Another had horns attached to it's helm in the same position as the horns had been atop the Deathclaw they had come from and had sharp teeth lining the bottom of it's respirator. The third had a simple white hand-print over the front of it's helm.

"**DIE SLAVER SCUM!**" bellowed the attackers.

Zach quickly got his rifle up and sighted. His finger squeezed off three shots in quick succession. Each shot either missed or sparked off the armor plates. After the third shot, the lead attacker was upon him. With the cracking of bones and the popping of organs, the guard was pierced by the claws of a Deathclaw. Said claws were strapped to the attacker's right forearm by a gauntlet.

Ripping the claws from the corpse, the attacker turned to watch his horned comrade tear into the other slaver with a Ripper. The teeth of the blade digging through flesh and bone as the weapons tiny motor kept the chain running.

A third slaver stepped from behind the wall of tires with rifle raised. The last thing he saw was the white-hand print of the third attacker before a hit from his Super Sledge sent the slaver flying backward, his torso decimated by the force that the powered Sledgehammer emitted.

With the three slavers dispatched, the attackers stalked around the wall of tires to stop in front of the slaver bastion's gate. The three stood in a loose wedge formation with the Yao Guai headed one in front. The leading attacker looked the white-handed one and nodded his head once. His companion nodded back before swinging his Sledge at the gate. It rang against the gate but otherwise did no damage.

A couple seconds later, the gate was opening.

"Jesus! It ain't time for the guard switch yet!" shouted the gate guard. His rifle was slung over one shoulder and a bottle of whiskey was held in one hand. When he saw the three armored beings that stood where he expected the his friends, the man dropped the whiskey. Before the bottle had even hit the ground, the lead attacker raised a Laser Pistol with his left hand and fired it into the Slaver's chest. The ionized particles reacted with the Slaver's own atoms, causing him to begin to fall to ash. As the effect consumed his face, it was locked in a mixture of shock, fear, and pain.

As the ashes still fall, the attacker was walking over where the slaver stood and into the slaver's fortress. When the three stepped through the gate, they were met with a scrap wall a couple feet in front of them. To their right, drunk slavers hung around an open door. Many were half-naked and engaging in the pleasantries of being in such a state. From the inside of the building the sounds of laughter and debauchery echoed. To their left was a tower, atop which was a single male that was staring at a scene on the other side of the scrap wall in an almost hypnotized state.

He was the first to die by the leader's Laser Pistol. The firing of the pistol and screams of agony from the guard brought the partying to a standstill. The silence was deafening as the visible slavers looked at their bastion's newest guests.

"**LOOK UPON US SLAVERS!**" bellowed the leader as he spread his arms out wide, "**LOOK UPON US AND SEE YOUR DOOM!**"

The shout suddenly animated the slavers. With cursing, the few who could grabbed weapons and began to brought them to bear on the intruders. With a howl, the horned intruder charged at the open door and the slavers gathered around it. A ten millimeter SMG barked from the man's left hand, downing a few Slavers before he crashed into them, Ripper cutting into them.

Gunfire sounded from the other side of the scrap metal wall, it sparking off the horned intruder's armor. With only the hissing of his armor and the stomping of his feet, the white hand attacker charged into the scrap wall. Tearing through it, he inadvertently crashed into a Slaver, sending her falling to the dirt. The attacker looked down at her to see her in nothing but a pair of panties. Her flesh did nothing to save her from the Super Sledge that smashed her torso into oblivion.

The attacker then looked at the rest of the Slavers that had been firing at his companion's back. Lifting the Sledge from the ground, he looked at his stunned prey. It was obvious that most of their sweat was not from being engaged in combat as many of them were naked or on their way there. One pair of Slavers were locked in an almost comical pose as the female was bent over a table, pistol aimed at the intruder while her male partner was behind her with a rifle, apparently with his member still inside the woman.

After a deep intake of air, the intruder bellowed a roar at the Slavers gathered in front of him. This seemed to bring the gathered group from their state of shock as their weapons barked and bullets pinged from the intruder's armor. With this new development, the intruder charged into the mass, Sledge swinging again and again, each swing indicating another dead Slaver. He took particular pleasure in smashing the sex-locked slavers at the point of their physical connection.

The leader of the trio marched through the bedlam, shooting or stabbing any Slaver that strayed too close to him. Reaching a pair of doors, the intruder make short time in kicking them off their hinges. Inside, he was met with the lead Slaver and his two whore bodyguards.

"Who are you?" shouted the Slaver leader as he glared daggers at the pelt covered helm.

"Your Reaper," replied the intruder in a calm voice before charging at the Slaver trio, intent on ripping them apart with his claws.

* * *

Sighing, I look from the blood-drenched gate area to the cages. They had been opened by Gabriel's Sledge, allowing the captives inside to spill out into the courtyard. They had looked at us in a mixture of happiness and fear. I couldn't blame them, honestly.

Now they just sat on the ground, waiting for something to happen. Even I could see that they were malnourished and had been abused. From the look of one's arm, it appeared to have been broken and allowed to heal wrong.

Hearing the thumping of armored boots against dirt, I turned to the path that lead to the gate to see that Derek had returned with Samantha and the doctor from Big Town, Red was her name. A blanket was over Samantha's chest and I knew that it cradled her baby girl. A brief memory flashed through my mind of when I rescued Gabriel, Derek, and Samantha from the slave pens at Evergreen Mills. Samantha had still been pregnant then.

"Sending Derek was wholly unnecessary," Samantha began as Red and her walked past me to the captives, "All one has to do to find you is follow the path of most carnage."

I smile behind my helm, "You question our results?" I ask playfully, though my helm probably distorted the intended tone. If it did, though, the woman showed no signs of it.

"Not your results. Just your methods," she replied as she dropped her pack next to the former slaves, "Red, hand out the water please and then help me with the first-aid."

With Samantha and Red getting to work, I turned to Derek. His weapons dangled from his hips by straps. His horned helm was tucked under one arm, exposing his dirty blonde hair to the elements. His blue eyes were trained on me but he didn't seem to be looking _at _me as a troubled look was etched on his face.

"You alright Derek?" I asked, snapping the man from his thoughts. On the other side of the courtyard, I saw Gabriel's helmet tilt slightly in our direction, an indication that he was listening in. With my Laser Pistol dangling from my waist, I use my one free hand to remove my helm and place it under my right arm. My brown hair was cut close to my head to avoid interference with my helm and my hazel eyes seemed dulled by the horrors of the wastes.

"Yeah, it's just that I found myself remembering back to when you rescued us from those Raiders back at Evergreen. Then, with a wave of realization, I realized that I," he glanced at Sam and Gabriel before looking back at me, "that we finally found our purpose in this hell."

"To help those that can't help themselves?" I asked.

Derek nods as he looked at the rescued slaves that seemed to have gathered around Red and Sam for food, water, and medicine. I reached out with my left hand and placed it atop his right pauldron, my hazel eyes looking into his face.

"That should be the purpose of us all," I said as I gave a reassuring shake of his shoulder before letting go. He nodded once, gave another glance at the former slaves, and then turned and walked over to where Gabriel stood.

I sighed and looked up at the sky. It was nothing like the blue sky that I had seen in the books at the Vault. No birds freely soared and the only insects that buzzed were the Bloatflies. And yet, I felt like this was natural. I felt like this because the brown sky reminded me of my only purpose in life.

To help the people of the Wastes.


End file.
